San Francisco comes alive with protest on November 2nd, 2005.

Nov. 2, 2005. San Francisco, CA. Massive drum circles, semi-coherent chanting of "The World Can't Wait", protest signs demanding the dismantling of the Bush administration.

Myself, thinking, "haven't these people read the news in the last 5 years?"

It's almost noon, there are students everywhere, smoking weed, some likely to be on acid. How do I find a hit? Moving through the crowd, getting snubbed by cliques of hippies who don't want to share, I met a friendly person. I interviewed him, a 14-year old young man named T'won, about his views on politics.

PaoTzu: Hello T'won, will you tell the people of the world what you are doing here today?

T'won: Call me T.

PaoTzu: Okay, T. What brought you here today?

T'won: I wanted to see Cindy Sheenan and cut out of school.

PaoTzu: Fair enough, let me get to the point. Do you know where there are any doses?

T'won: What?

PaoTzu: You know, acid.

T'won: (ignores me and walks off)

All the people get up and start marching, like a swarm of ants descending on the crumbs of a sugar cookie. Kids start blocking the streets and start their own little smoke-out drum circles in the middle of the road. I really needed something to take the edge off being in this crowd, so I join them. The police begin speaking through their megaphones, and I attempt to interview them from within the circle about the Bush administration and domestic policies.

Police: (unintelligible)

PaoTzu: Say what?

Police: Disperse from (unintelligible) blocking traffic.

PaoTzu: Hold on, I need to get a hit of this.

Police: (unintelligible) This is your last warning.

PaoTzu: Okay, okay, let me just ask you...

With that, the police rushed up to us with batons. They cracked me in the shoulder a few times before I crumpled over onto the ground. I was laying there, incapacitated, being kicked and dragged. The street signs said Market & Hyde. I summoned all of my strength and tried to run for the border... to get to 8th St. Stumbling and near passing out, I held the joint tightly in my hand. It was still burning, but I didn't care. This was for my freedom, my country.

I awoke covered in a memorial of hippie crystals, burning incense, and patchouli. A woman said to me "Yea! Bush Step Down!!" Of all of Bush's injustices: Abu Gharib, CD Copy Protection, Food Stamp Debit Cards... someone had stolen the joint back from me. I blame George W. Sir, it is time for you to step down.

kunst@pigdog.org